These Things We Never Say
by GondorQueen
Summary: Post Black and Blue. Starsky gets philosophical during a stakeout, while Hutch wants to sleep.


Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm just playing.

Thanks to my lovely betas Angelhunter and KimberlyFDR!

**These Things We Never Say **

For what felt like the hundredth time, Hutch was shifting in the backseat of the Torino, trying to find a comfortable position and bumping yet again into the front seat with one of his long legs. He was dog-tired, he was cold, and his shoulder and left arm hurt like hell. Hutch felt as if he had spent several days in the cramped space of the car instead of just four hours.

This was their first stake-out after having been shot by that kid a couple of weeks ago. Starsky and Dobey had had reasonable doubts whether it was wise for Hutch to join his partner in the stake-out, but Hutch had insisted on coming along. He was sick and tired of being parked behind his desk and treated like glass. Maybe he wasn't fit for the big action yet, but he thought he could at least manage a stake-out.

How utterly stupid of him.

Hutch winced as he gingerly rubbed the spot where the bullet had penetrated. His shoulder felt stiff and sore. He'd never be able to get some sleep that way.

And then there was his partner.

Starsky had a unique way of picking the most indecent times to indulge in all kinds of philosophical musings. Not that this was news to Hutch, but while he desperately tried to get some rest, his dark-haired partner was more talkative than ever.

Hutch tried another sleeping position and hissed involuntarily when pain shot through him, his shoulder and arm protesting the movement. _Great, now he knows for sure I'm awake_. Hutch waited for the inevitable and didn't have to wait for long.

"Hutch? You still awake?"

He groaned.

_Of course I'm awake, Starsky. This striped crappy tomato of yours isn't really the most comfortable place. And since you can't keep your mouth shut for longer than 10 minutes today, there's__ no way I'll get any sleep at all_. There was no point in arguing with Starsky, so he just said "Yeah."

"Wanna talk?"

"'Bout what?" Hutch exhaled slowly, trying to rub the tiredness out of his eyes.

"Nothing special. Just… talk."

"Well, if you want to talk, partner… fire away. You haven't been that quiet in the last few hours anyway," Hutch snapped, not able to hide his annoyance anymore. He wanted to go home, take a long relaxing shower, and crawl into his bed. Hutch shifted again in the backseat and whimpered when he managed to hit his head on the side of the car. _Damn_.

Starsky turned around.

"Hutch, are you mad at me?"

"No" came the muffled answer from the back.

"Then why are you so grumpy?"

"Starsky, I'm trying to get some sleep here."

"Oh. Sorry."

The interior of the car fell quiet again, silence stretching out for several minutes. Hutch closed his eyes and he must have drifted off because he jerked when Starsky suddenly spoke again.

"Hutch?"

_Not again_.

"Now, what?" the blond asked crossly.

"Do you believe in angels?" Starsky sounded as if he was far away with his thoughts.

Hutch opened his eyes, surprised by the strange question and the sudden change from his partner's good-natured and chatty mode to what seemed to be a dark and brooding mood.

_Uh-oh._

Hutch propped himself up, using his good arm, trying to make out the shape in the front seat.

"Starsky, what's wrong?"

"Nothin'"

"Then why the question?"

"It's just… I think I've met one. But it was too late when I realized it."

Fully awake now, Hutch didn't know what to say. All traces of sleepiness gone, he opened the passenger door and carefully crawled out of the backseat before slipping into the front seat next to Starsky.

"I'm afraid you've lost me, Starsk."

"Remember when I made that disappearing act today?"

Hutch indeed remembered. Starsky had left in a rush during his lunch break after receiving a call, mumbling something about an errand he had to run. Ever since he came back, he had been acting strange. Now that he thought about it, Hutch realized that Starsky's loquaciousness had just been a façade. Why hadn't he seen it earlier?

_Because you were too busy wallowing in self pity about your sore shoulder._

Suddenly he felt guilty. He hadn't exactly been very supportive within the last weeks in general, too occupied with himself and his convalescence after the gun shot wound.

"So where have you really been?" Hutch asked.

"Memorial Hospital." Starsky fell silent and Hutch waited for him to continue.

Starsky swallowed audibly. "Mrs. Greene died last night."

Mrs. Greene. Hutch desperately racked his brain, trying to put a face to the name.

Then he remembered. Starsky had told him about the old lady; met her in the waiting room while Hutch was in surgery. The kind woman had comforted Starsky, giving warmth and hope even though she had been fighting her own battle against terminal cancer.

"I wanted to visit her, Hutch. But I didn't have the time, with you being out of the hospital and all the work to catch up…" Starsky hesitated, shifting uncomfortably in his seat . "I asked the nurses to give me a call when she… you know… when her condition got worse. Then I just forgot about it. Last night she died in her sleep. Just like that. No warning."

For a moment, Hutch didn't know what to say. Finally he reached out and squeezed Starsky's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, buddy."

"I feel like I've betrayed her. I promised to visit her." Starsky was audibly struggling to keep his voice steady. "But you know what bugs me most? She was so kind to me, she really touched my heart. It was like… she appeared out of nowhere and was there for me when I felt lonely and helpless. And I never thanked her for what she did for me." Hutch could more feel the slumping of Starsky's shoulder than seeing it. "I screwed up, Hutch. Big time."

Hutch felt his friend trembling with anger and grief. A wave of love and sympathy washed over him, leaving Hutch speechless. Abandoning the strong shoulder with a last sympathetic squeeze, Hutch reached out again to the curly head, stroking the wiry hair as if trying to soothe an upset child.

Starsky vented his frustration by hitting the steering wheel with his fist.

"What's wrong with us human beings? Those things we never say to each other. Why do we always wait till it's too late?"

Hutch couldn't find a decent answer to this. He remained silent for a while, trying to think of something he could say to comfort his desperate friend.

"Don't do this to yourself, buddy. I'm sure she knew and understood."

"I'm not so sure about that."

Hutch wished he could ease his partner's grief, but he also felt the stinging truth behind the words.

"Starsky, sometimes words aren't necessary. Take us, for instance." The last part had slipped out before Hutch could stop himself.

"What do you mean?" Starsky asked softly.

Hutch couldn't see his partner's face, but he felt his questioning gaze resting on him. He swallowed around the lump that was growing in his throat.

Starsky's words echoed in his mind.

_Those things we never_ s_ay to each other. Why do we always wait till it's too late?_

He was so damn right.

While it was true that they often communicated without words, it was also a human condition to seek some kind of verbal confirmation. Lovers assured each other of their feelings all the time, even though there was no need for that. He and Starsky weren't lovers, but Hutch couldn't think of any person in his life that meant more to him and he was sure, no, he _knew_ that this sentiment was mutual. It was in their looks, their touches, their whole body language and actions. But neither of them actually had said it out loud. It just didn't work that way. But why the hell was it so difficult to express one's feelings, even among close friends?

_Damn you, and your philosophy lessons, Starsk. _

"Hutch?" The voice of his partner brought him back from his reverie.

_To hell with stupid conventions._

Hutch braced himself and said: "Starsky, if you care about someone, this person has to be blind and deaf not to see it. You just know when…." Hutch hesitated. Suddenly, he was glad for the darkness. "You just know when David Michael Starsky loves you. I know it, even when you don't say it out loud."

Wait a minute. That wasn't really what he had meant to say. He had somehow managed to turn the table.

_Brilliant move, Hutchinson. _

The silence between the friends stretched out to an uncomfortable level.

"Starsky, what I meant was…"

Suddenly Hutch felt Starsky's hand resting on his arm.

"I know what you meant, you big blond lummox." Hutch felt himself being pulled into a tight embrace. "No more words necessary," Starsky whispered, his voice husky with emotion. "Thank you, Hutch."

"You're welcome, buddy." With a last squeeze the two friends released each other from the embrace.

Somewhere they knew that the old lady was probably smiling now.

Fin


End file.
